


Torn Down From Glory Daily

by brocanteur



Series: To Bedlam and Part Way Back [4]
Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Enemy Lovers, F/F, Hate Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-05
Updated: 2011-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-26 23:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brocanteur/pseuds/brocanteur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"All of Katie's days have begun to blur and blend into nights."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Torn Down From Glory Daily

**Author's Note:**

> Titles and opening quotes stolen from Anne Sexton.

_"The world is full of them, a world of beasts thrusting for one rock."_

 

\--

 

All of Katie's days have begun to blur and blend into nights.

She can't remember the last time she got out of bed before three o'clock. Can't even remember which day it was she last spoke to Emily.

Every morning for the last two weeks she's managed to see the sun rise. It's a fucking shame that she's done it on her walk home from Effy's, or whatever shit club they managed to get into the night before.

It's disorienting at first. She's used to going out--or was, anyway, before she spent six solid weeks cloistered in her room--but doing it night after night, spending the hours fucked up on whatever they can find (and Effy's _so good_ at finding that they never want for anything to ingest, imbibe), has begun to leave its mark.

At least Emily--probably because she's grown sick of listening to Katie's insistence she _stay the fuck out of it_ \--stops asking about Katie's nights out altogether. Instead, when she's actually home and not off gaying it up with Naomi, she just gives Katie this _look_ that's equal parts pain and resentment, like she can't quite believe that after everything they went through to sort things out after the Love Ball and all the shit with Naomi, and with their mum, that they're back to this sodding stalemate.

Katie corners Emily one morning and tells her bluntly, "It's got nothing to do with you, okay?"

And Emily just nods, but she's clearly not satisfied.

There's nothing Katie can do about that. There's nothing she can tell her sister that will make things the way they used to be, or at least the way they were when they more or less sorted things out with Naomi. It's different now. It _feels_ different--like this new world has opened up.

And it's not good. It's not fucking _right_ , but it's what she's got.

It's what keeps coming back when nothing else will.

\--

Effy doesn't ask her stupid questions. Sometimes, Effy doesn't speak at all.

They'll arrive separately somewhere, wherever Effy managed to decide--and it's always Effy who decides these sorts of things, because Katie doesn't want to fucking plan anything. She doesn't want to be the one who arranges this _whatever_ between them.

Anyway, they'll arrive _wherever_ , and they'll get fucked up, yeah. Always fucked up first, like they can't stand to look at each other for very long if they haven't got something clouding up their brain. Booze, MDMA, assorted pills. Something to snort, something to smoke. More booze. The taking is always the same--it's only _what_ they take that varies.

Sometimes they'll dance first. They'll dance until Katie's legs feel rubbery and her arms heavy, and Effy has to half-drag her somewhere, prop her up against a wall just so they can touch each other without falling over--because Effy's always just a little more sober. Or just sober enough that she's the one that does the pushing. But it doesn't really take much these days, for Katie to follow. One of Effy's looks will do.

Sometimes they'll fuck first, if they're wasted enough the first time around. They'll lean against each other, breathing heavily--Effy's eyes go dark and her lips part and she stares at Katie like she wants to consume her--and always, always if they fuck first, it's the best fuck of the night.

It goes on most of the night, until one of them, like, fucking voms or starts slurring so badly the other gets the hint. (Effy holds out longer than Katie, always; it's just a fact.) And then they'll walk back to Effy's, sometimes just before dawn, when Bristol is still dark and something of their evening together still lingers in Katie's mind; sometimes it's morning, and Katie's itching to shower and to get some coffee or something into her stomach so she can start the process of scrubbing herself of the memories.

Not that she has long before it's time to make new ones. And, anyway, the marks never quite fade before it's time to replace them with other marks, with fresh bruises.

At Effy's, they crawl into bed together. They never look at each other for longer than a moment or two. Effy takes her clothes off and climbs under the sheets, turns over a few times before she settles into something that's seems halfway comfortable. Katie lies on top of the blanket, fully clothed except for her shoes, and stares at the ceiling.

Here, they are silent. Effy never talks; Katie never has anything to say.

A few times, Katie's accidentally fallen asleep. Once, she curled up on her side and put her arm out. Touched Effy's waist. When she woke up, it was to find Effy's gaze fixed on her hand.

Katie tries very hard not to fall asleep.

When she feels steady enough, when some of the drugs have worn away, she'll get up and look for her shoes. (They're never by the foot of the bed.) She'll slip them on and try not to look in Effy's direction. Effy usually doesn't say anything when Katie tells her she's leaving. Sometimes she does.

Sometimes she'll murmur things Katie can't fucking hear. Once she said, "Have a safe walk home, okay?" and it was so startling Katie didn't know what to reply for a full three seconds before finally saying, "Yeah, thanks."

If it's early enough, she might get to watch the sun rise and by the time she gets home, her eyes are burning. If it's late enough, people will already be on their way to work. She has to avoid unwelcome stares from sodding bints and tossers who seem to think she's part of the disgraceful youth of Britain.

She ignores them, or glares back, because fuck them all, really. Like they know anything about her. Like anyone does.

(She thinks Effy does, sometimes--when Katie's totally fried and Effy's fingers are inside of her and she's forgotten how much they hate each other. And Effy will say just the right thing, or smile just the right way and Katie will think, "Right, she gets it."

But that moment never lasts. It couldn't possibly. It's all a fucking lie.)

\--

She wakes up past noon, so thirsty she can’t just ignore it enough to roll back under her covers.

When she goes into the kitchen, Emily and Naomi are there talking about... Well, whatever the fuck they’re talking about, they stop the moment Katie walks in.

Katie snorts loudly at the vaguely hurt look that passes over Emily’s face when their eyes meet, because, Christ, she just isn't in the mood to deal with Emily's _feelings._

Then Emily turns to Naomi, touches her shoulder and murmurs, “I’ll be right back” before leaving the room altogether.

Katie rolls her eyes, reaches into the cupboard for a glass. “What the fuck was that?”

Naomi shrugs and leans back in her chair, keeping her gaze trained on Katie while Katie drinks one, then two more glasses of water.

"You're creeping me out," Katie says, wiping her mouth. "Either talk, or stop staring, yeah?"

"Right," Naomi replies lazily as she stands and walks closer to Katie. She stops a few feet away, leaning against the sink. "Look--"

"Actually, forget it. Don't say anything," Katie interrupts.

"You don't even know what I'm going to say," Naomi replies, looking mildly offended. "Jesus, Katie, don't be so fucking defensive."

Katie sighs heavily. "Whatever. I'm not _retarded,_ okay? "

"Come on, Katie. Can't I just be... friendly? We've been friendly for a while."

"Civil, at best, you cow."

Naomi smiles. “Well, as civil as a bint like you could be, I suppose. So what’s really going on, Katie?”

“What, you mean with my life? " Katie replies, laughing. "Whatever I say, I suppose you'll just rush off and tell her.”

Naomi doesn’t bother denying it. Shrugging, she says, “Why do you think she left? Desperate times call for desperate measures, Katiekins.”

“And you’re the desperate measure.”

“Obviously,” Naomi deadpans.

Katie allows herself a smirk. "I am well impressed by your love for my sister, Naomi. Putting yourself in the line of fire, and all that."

"It's a bit pathetic, really."

"Completely," Katie remarks. "Christ, Naomi, if I say it's none of her business, she'll take it personally, won't she? She takes everything so fucking personally."

"Family trait, right?"

"Yeah, well, I've given her the space she wanted. I'm letting her, like, lead her life, whatever the fuck that means. So, you know, she should extend me the same fucking courtesy."

"She's worried about you," Naomi says seriously. "It's not that you fuck off every night, or that you don't talk to her for days, it's that you come home with _bruises_ , Katie." Naomi takes a dangerous step closer and touches a deep scratch mark on Katie's forearm. "I mean, what the fuck have you been up to?"

Katie jerks her arm back forcefully, glances down at it. Fuck's sake, she thought she'd been more careful. Except, when, really, had she had time to be careful? Somewhere between the first bottle of vodka and the second? After the tab of whatever Effy slipped her? She thinks of all the places that ache, and can't remember why, not completely. It doesn't matter. The finger-shaped bruises, the bite marks, the scratches she can't even see until they sting under the hot water of her shower--they're all pretty fucking self-explanatory.

"Just...fuck off, Naomi," she says, folding her arms over her chest. She tries for bitchy but ends up sounding tired, and Naomi's expression just shifts to pity. Well, _fuck her._

"Fucking hell, Katie," Naomi says. "Would you just tell me you're not in trouble at least? Because this--"

"I'm not in trouble," Katie says quickly. She shakes her head at Naomi's narrowed eyes. "What will it fucking take for you two to leave me alone? Tell Emily it's nothing, yeah, so you can get back to the business of whatever it is you do when you're not being annoying gits." She pauses and gives Naomi a look she hopes conveys she needs this to be the fucking end of it. "Okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Naomi says quietly. Then she rolls her eyes, like she's trying to lighten the mood--Katie's almost grateful--and adds, "Just, you know, whoever the tosser is? You should maybe tell him to be a little less forceful, next time, even if you're both probably too pissed to care. Christ, if _we_ noticed... "

"Naomi?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't be a fucking twat."

Naomi grins. "Right," she says, almost brightly. "Look, if you could at least _try_ to act like you're not on your way to the looney bin, that'd be fucking fantastic. Frankly, trying to cheer Emily up because she's worried about your mental state is getting a bit tiresome."

"I don't know what the fuck you're on about."

“For starters, your side of the room looks like you went on safari, decimated the entire leopard population and left the corpses to rot.”

Oh, Christ, _that._ One morning Katie came home, tired and still a bit drunk, and started dumping the contents of her wardrobe on the floor. It felt so fucking important at the moment, to be rid of everything that reminded her of _anything_. Because everything was fucking tainted, one way or another. Just, bloody _everything._

Katie laughs weakly. "What, I can't clean out my fucking wardrobe now? Jesus." She shakes her head. "I needed... a change. Clean sweep, right?”

“Yeah, well, I can understand that, obviously," Naomi replies, tapping her fingernail against the countertop, and for whatever reason it makes Katie grit her teeth. "As long as clean sweep doesn’t include your sister.”

“She’s got you.”

“She does,” Naomi says. “She’s obviously mental, though, because she wants you, as well.”

Katie pours herself another glass of water, drinks it slowly, feels it slide down her raw throat. She tries to remember whether she was yelling the night before and thinks, _maybe, yeah_. "Whatever," she rasps. "Tell her she's got me, okay. I'm still here."

Naomi's smile is tentative. "All right," she says. "Okay, well, this went rather well, I think."

"Yeah, sure," Katie says. "I'll inform MI-6 it should be on the lookout for you, right? Brilliant spy stuff, Naomi."

Naomi rolls her eyes. "I could be, you know, stealthy."

Snorting, Katie replies, "Naomi, you're about as stealthy as you are straight. Or, you know, a good dresser." Naomi opens her mouth to respond, but for once in her fucking life, she seems at a loss. "Right," Katie continues, "now bugger off. And tell Emily that, next time, I'll talk to her in my own fucking time, okay?"

\--

It's nearly midnight by the time it dawns on Katie that maybe, for the first time in weeks, Effy won't be ringing her.

She's dressed, under the covers of her bed, waiting. Emily's gone. Her parents and James are in bed. The house is deadly quiet, and Katie is wide awake and waiting, clutching her mobile in her hand.

The weird feeling in her stomach--not quite an aching so much as a fluttering, a general sense of unease that she can't shake--starts up right around 12:30, and she can't fucking believe it. She can't believe, one, that Effy fucking stood her up (nevermind that they've never talked about this being a regular thing, so much as it just _happened_ ) and, two, that she cares at all.

"Fucking hell," she murmurs to herself, lifting her mobile and staring at the screen.

She waits another fifteen minutes, works herself into such a state of anger that when she flips open her phone and starts punching buttons, she can hear her frustration on the subtle cracking of its plastic casing.

It's four long rings before Effy can be bothered to answer. "What?"

"What?" Katie asks. "What'd you mean, what? Where the fuck are you?"

"I'm in bed," Effy replies simply. Then, "Where the fuck are you?"

Katie stares at her mobile for a second, confused. "Huh?"

"Katie," Effy says, and Katie hears her sigh. "What do you want?"

"Weren't we--" Katie stops, because she's starting to feel like biggest twat on the planet. Her stomach twists painfully and she scowls at herself. "Fuck. Nevermind," she says, ending the call.

Two minutes later, Effy rings her back.

"If you want to see me," she says, when Katie answers, "you can just say so."

Katie flips her mobile closed with a loud _snap._

Five minutes later, she picks it up from where she tossed it angrily, halfway to Emily's bed.

Effy answers in one. "Come over," she says coolly.

"Where?" Katie asks, expecting the name of one of their usual clubs.

"Here. My place."

" _Why?_ "

"Because I'm fucking tired, Katie."

"I don't--" Katie stammers, not sure how to answer. The last time they were alone in Effy's room without having been to a club first, things got a little too fucking intense. "Why can't we just go out, yeah? Get fucked up, dance--"

"Here," Effy says. Adds, languidly, "I'll meet you halfway, if you'd like."

Katie takes a deep breath. She shouldn't. She really fucking shouldn't. But she's dressed already, right, and she's not in the mood to go anywhere alone. So: "Yeah, okay. Whatever."

\--

Effy's standing under a streetlamp, smoking, when Katie sees her. Jesus, she didn't even bother dressing, just slipped on the same horrible trousers she wore the day they saw each other at Tesco, and a long black top Katie's seen her use as a dress one too many times. She's got one arm wrapped around herself, shivering. It's nearly two o'clock, and it's fucking cold.

When Effy looks up and sees Katie, she raises her eyebrows, just a bit, like she's surprised Katie showed up at all. Her lips quirk and she takes a long drag from her cigarette as she tilts her head in the direction of her house. Doesn't even say hello as they fall into step with each other.

"Nice fucking outfit," Katie murmurs, hearing the click-clack of her own heels, the sound echoing in the quiet of a midweek night.

Effy looks her up and down and says, "Yours too, Katie." Then she laughs, laughs even harder when Katie shoots her a glare.

"You're such a cunt," Katie says, but there's no venom behind her words. "Give me one of those, yeah?"

Effy stops long enough to light Katie's cigarette for her, takes a deep drag of it herself before handing it over.

"So what's the fucking plan, then?" Katie asks.

Effy's expression is indecipherable. "Plan? There's never a plan, Katie."

"Well, what?" Katie asks, growing irritated. "Are we going to, like, play fucking cards, or something?"

Effy flicks her fag into the road and smiles.

\--

Turns out Effy can't even find a deck of cards, which is fine because Katie hadn't actually meant it anyway; she hasn't played a fucking card game in ages.

They smoke a spliff between them, lying on their backs on Effy's bed, staring up at the ceiling.

It's too quiet. Katie's used to the noise in the clubs, to the beat of the music. It's jarring, finding herself with Effy, doing nothing but smoking.

She sits up and says, "Fuzzy Duck?"

Effy stares at her for a moment, like she's gone daft. "What?"

Katie rolls her eyes and gets out of bed, looks around until she finds a bottle of vodka that's three-quarters full. "Running low, aren't you, babe?" she asks flippantly.

Effy just smirks back at her and pats the bed.

"Is this wise?" she asks, smiling almost cheerily as Katie lies down beside her again and twists the cap on the bottle. "A two-person game of Fuzzy Duck?"

"Did you want to sit around, braid one anothers' hair and talk about, like, our fucking feelings?" Katie asks. She takes a short swig and says, "Fuzzy duck."

Effy takes a drink. "Ducky fuzz," she says, making a face. "I don't think you've thought this through."

Katie takes the bottle back. A drink. "Does he," she mutters. "Fuzzy duck. " She starts laughing at the look on Effy's face--equal parts confusion and amusement. "Yeah, fuck. You're right."

Effy laughs, too, and her entire face breaks open, and she looks younger. Almost happy. "Give it here." She drinks and drinks until she's gasping and coughing, spilling the vodka down her chin and throat. "It's faster," she says, pushing the bottle into Katie's hands. She grows more serious when she adds, looking straight into Katie's eyes, "If you want to get fucked up first, then just do it."

Katie doesn't need to ask what Effy means. She just closes her eyes, tips the bottle back and swallows as much as she can in one go. It burns horribly--her throat's on fire after the first long drink--but she goes for as long as possible. She's mildly dizzy when she stops, isn't surprised that, between the two of them, they've managed to drink most of what remains of the vodka.

She shudders and grins when she catches Effy's eye. "Shit."

Effy nods, gets up on all fours and leans forward to kiss her, hard.

It's the alcohol, Katie thinks, that's settled so warm in her stomach, that makes her gasp. Already her thighs are clenched together, her cunt throbbing, and all Effy's done is kiss her. Isn't even touching her. "Jesus, fuck," she murmurs against Effy's mouth.

Effy hums, whispers something, but it's so soft Katie can't hear it, and anyway she doesn't care, because Effy's already trapping her lips between sharp teeth, gently tugging, grazing before she tilts her head and surges, deepening the kiss with a sigh.

Tipping forward, Katie reaches blindly for Effy's shoulders. For a moment, maybe less, Katie thinks they aren't fucked up for this, but then Effy's got a hand under her skirt, warm on her thigh, and it's the same as always: _fuck it._

She palms Effy's tits and squeezes almost roughly, satisfied when Effy hisses and nips at her mouth, kisses her more forcefully. Their lips are pressed tightly together, moving slowly. Katie can hear the sharp, noisy intakes of air as they breathe through their noses until it's too much and they have to pull apart, gasping loudly.

Dazed, Katie blinks at Effy, tugs at the waistband of her trousers and says, "Come _on._ "

She isn't even sure why she's as impatient as she is, watching as Effy struggles to take off her boots. When Effy looks up and murmurs, her voice low and husky, "And what are you waiting for?" Katie automatically reaches for the buttons of her top.

She's nearly down to her bra and knickers by the time Effy slips back into bed, naked.

Katie used to think it didn't matter, looking at Effy, at her body, but since she's allowed herself everything else, since she's managed to _fuck_ Effy, like, multiple times, she might as well _look_. She wonders what it says about her, that she's gone from convincing herself that Effy's flat tits and long legs do absolutely nothing for her, to growing unexpectedly wet when she reaches out to touch, when Effy's eyes lock with hers in that way that makes her think, just for a bit, that this isn't as fucked up as she knows it is.

She doesn't wait for Effy to touch her first, not like she does whenever they're in a club. It's always Effy that makes the first move. Effy who takes her by the hand. Effy leading the way, and Katie's all too happy to let her.

It's different this time, and she should probably stop to think what that means. Except it doesn't matter, does it? They've done this much, and they're not going to stop; not now, and maybe not for a while.

Effy looks mildly surprised, maybe even pleased, when Katie pushes her onto her back. "Oh," she whispers, the ghost of a smile on her face. "Okay."

It's really not fucking _okay,_ Katie thinks, but she shoves the thought down, takes a deep, shaky breath as she settles between Effy's thighs and just...touches. Everywhere she can, she runs her fingers, her greedy gaze.

It's because of the spliff--because they didn't take any fucking pills or MDMA, or whatever to, like, balance it out--that everything's languid, more contained. Katie's hands feels heavy and slow and she just wants to _feel_ , to take her time. When she lowers her head and presses her mouth to the side of Effy's neck, she tastes, dipping her tongue tentatively one moment, swiping it slickly along Effy's collarbone the next. And it's got to be the fucking vodka that's making her think that, right now, the little sounds Effy makes when everything's unhurried and gentle are, like, the best in the fucking world. Maybe it should bother her, yeah, but it doesn't--not enough want to stop what she's doing. "Wow," she says. "I'm well drunk." Because she _must_ be.

She doesn't even stop when she feels Effy's hand cover her own, when they're fingers twine together and it's like they're... What? Not _fucking_...

When Katie pushes up onto her elbow, Effy's eyes are closed and she's biting the corner of her lip. Her cheeks are pink, flushed, and she's just... not like anyone Katie's ever known. "You're--" Katie starts to say, her voice strangled. "God, you're beautiful, aren't you?"

Effy's eyes snap open, and she's already shaking her head as she says, "Don't stop." Her eyebrows draw together as she squeezes Katie's hand.

Katie pulls away from Effy's grasp. It's one thing, she thinks--and fuck's sake, why is she trembling--to not, like, hurt each other and it's quite another to fucking _hold hands_ and pretend this is something it's not.

So she buries her face in Effy's hair, takes several deep, almost shuddering breaths, and tries not to think so fucking much. "It's the spliff," she murmurs, palming Effy's tit lightly, kissing the underside of her ear.

Effy makes a vague little sound before responding. "What?"

"The weed, okay?" Katie shifts so she's covering half of Effy's body with her own, and it feels like a lot because they're just lying pressed against each other, touching slowly and it's... It's really fucking nice, is what it is. "Do you care?" she asks, dropping kisses along Effy's throat, down to her chest, tracing freckles with her tongue.

Effy sighs, sliding her hands down Katie's back. Katie realizes almost immediately what the touch is missing: Effy's fingernails pressing into her skin, wounding. "What the fuck are you talking about, Katie?"

"If we don't--" And it's fucking frustrating, because she doesn't know what to call it. She doesn't want to say _Do you care if we don't fuck each other?_ because it's what they're doing. Except it's not the same. It's nowhere near the same and Katie's terrified to call it anything else. Instead, she puts her hand on Effy's hip and squeezes, hard.

Effy grunts softly and touches Katie's chin, tips her head back. "Hey," she says, and it's almost too nice a gesture. "Stop worrying about it, okay?"

Katie scowls when Effy strokes her jaw and lets her hand settle on the back of Katie's neck. "It's the spliff," she repeats.

"Yeah," Effy agrees, but it's a tired sort of sound, and Katie doesn't like it. "Right."

 _> Don't think. Don't worry._ Katie rolls her eyes at her own fucking stupidity and kisses Effy, who kisses back immediately, her mouth open, wet. It's slow and deep, their kiss, and whatever it lacks in urgency it makes up for in heat. By the end of it, Katie's almost dizzy and panting for air. "God," she exhales, dragging her lips away from Effy's, following a crooked path down her throat, across her chest. "Just, like, tell me what feels good, right?"

Effy laughs a little. Katie can feel it, when her shoulders shake.

Leans back slightly, Katie narrows her eyes. "What--?" she starts to ask, but her sudden irritation is squelched by Effy's smile.

"You're a bit of a dozy cow, aren't you, Katie?" she says, but she says it so affectionately, it almost sounds like a compliment.

"And you're a bit of a cunt," Katie answers, covering Effy's tit with her hand, squeezing. She hesitates only for a moment before replacing her hand with her mouth.

She's never done this much--she's groped and squeezed and rubbed, but never actually put her mouth on Effy's tits before--but Effy reacts in a way that makes Katie's stomach contract tightly. It's the way she bends into it, the way she digs her fingers into Katie's back and almost whimpers-- Katie feels her knickers soak through, bites back a groan.

It isn't long before Katie forgets that there's more to what they're doing than just touching like this, like there doesn't have to be an immediate end to it. She circles Effy's nipple with her tongue, sucks it carefully into her mouth.

And it's not as fucking weird as she'd thought it would be--when she'd let herself think about it at all. It feels _good_ , not just getting to see Effy break apart a little bit at a time, but just _doing it_. The softness, the give of Effy's body... Katie's fairly sure it'll give her a headache later, thinking about why she's enjoying this so much.

She feels Effy's chest hitch when she scrapes her teeth slowly along her nipple before sucking harder. A different reaction, but nice, too. _Good._

"Katie?"

"Huh?" Fuck, but she sounds well dazed.

Effy wraps her fingers around Katie's wrist and tugs until she's pressing Katie's hand to her thigh. "Come on," she says, hissing when Katie complies only enough to dip her fingers into the slick heat between Effy's legs, just for a second. "Don't be a bitch, Katie."

Smirking, Katie shifts so she's between Effy's thighs and the way Effy splays them out for her... Well, it shouldn't be fucking hot, but it is, because Effy's got this look on her face, and it's part frustration and part almost-vulnerability. It makes Katie feel like she's got some control that, for once, she doesn't really want to use.

She slides her fingers along Effy's cunt again, and she's done this enough that she's pretty fucking confident she's good at it. Watching Effy squeeze her eyes shut, watching her jaw clench with each circling of her clit, it's enough to motivate Katie to do more.

Sitting back on her calves, she watches Effy blink open her eyes, frowning when Katie, feeling like a fucking idiot, asks, "You'll help me, yeah?"

"Help you--" Effy begins to say--and, Christ, her voice is low and rough in a way Katie would never in a million years have predicted she'd ever find _sexy_ \--but then her eyes widen, just a fraction, when Katie rolls her eyes and leans far enough to kiss the inside of Effy's thigh.

It strikes Katie that this is the most they've ever talked during sex.

Effy's smile is slow. "Yeah, sure," she says, and it's nice, at least, that she's a little breathless. That she isn't, like, fucking _composed._

Katie's heart starts to race, and she has to remind herself that it's ridiculous to be nervous because it's not like she's never gone down on anyone. She's good at sex--and, okay, right, sex with boys, but she's good at fucking Effy, too. Or has been, when they're both totally bonked.

"Katie, what the fuck?"

Katie looks up to see Effy staring back at her almost angrily. Something within Katie lurches and she has to swallow hard at the sudden rush of need that seizes her. "Right," she says, keeping her gaze fixed on Effy's as she lowers her head and takes her first, tentative lick.

Effy's hips snap off the bed. "Jesus," she hisses. "Don't just--"

Katie smiles to herself, thinking--and it's fucking stupid, but what about any of this isn't--she likes it better when Effy's at least a bit angry because there's something in her eyes that's...

The first tug on Katie's hair makes her eyes widen with surprise. When she refocuses her attention on Effy's face, Effy's staring intently, her lip caught between her teeth. She shakes her head, tugs again but it's less forceful.

Katie settles in, swiping her tongue more firmly along Effy's cunt and, yeah, okay, it's a bit strange because she's like, a proper muff muncher now or something, and it'd make her laugh if it wasn't for the fact that Effy's, like, really into it. And she's making these sounds that... Christ. She isn't loud, Effy, but the way her breath catches every once in a while, how sometimes she whimpers and tenses up--it makes Katie never want to stop what she's doing.

After a bit, though, she really can't resist, and she pauses long enough to ask, "Is that working well enough, then?"

The glare Effy shoots her is spectacular, and her fingers tighten around Katie's hair hard enough to _really fucking hurt._ "Fuck's sake," Katie hisses. "Watch it."

"No one likes a tease, Katie," Effy warns.

Katie smirks and replies, "And you should know, yeah?"

For a moment, Effy just stares back at her, a vaguely disgruntled look on her face. But then, suddenly, she just _smiles_. "Thought we were playing nice."

"We are," Katie replies throatily, pausing only for a moment before pressing her open mouth to Effy's cunt.

Effy's sharp intake of breath echoes through the room and Katie, rather fucking pleased with herself, groans her approval. She intensifies her efforts, wraps her arms around Effy's thighs, dips her tongue inside--and _that works_ , because Effy's suddenly grinding up against Katie's face while her fingernails press into Katie's scalp. Katie winces, but doesn't stop, just reaches around with one of her hands and strokes a sloppy circle around Effy's clit with her thumb until Effy's little whimpers become one uninterrupted moan. She thinks she's got a good rhythm going when Effy freezes, the lower half of her body arching off the bed. She doesn't make a sound for a protracted moment, but when she collapses, her breath comes in a _whoosh_.

It's when she finally, thankfully, remembers to let go of Katie's hair.

"Fucking hell," Katie murmurs, rubbing the top of her head. "Next time I'm, Iike, tying your hands together."

Effy's still breathing unsteadily when she replies. "Promise?"

Katie snorts and crawls off Effy's body, rolls onto her back beside her. "Freak," she mutters, pressing her thighs together; she's so turned on she can barely think straight.

She keeps her gaze trained on the ceiling, the only safe place to look, runs her tongue, then the back of her hand, across her lips. The taste of _Effy_ lingers heavily in her mouth, and it's not a bad thing, really. Closing her eyes, she reaches between her legs. Almost immediately, she feels Effy's fingers wrap around her arm.

"It's the weed," she whispers to herself. "Fucking...spliff."

She feels Effy hovering near, opens her eyes to see Effy's face appear in her line of vision. "What?" she asks quietly, half-leaning over Katie. She puts her hand on Katie's tit, starts stroking it softly.

Katie closes her eyes.

Shrugs.

Then Effy's kissing her, hand replacing Katie's between her thighs--stroking over her knickers. And it shouldn't be enough, but somehow it is, and after a not very long time, Katie shudders in Effy's arms.

Her heart beats hard as she struggles for air. When Effy doesn't move away, just keeps her arm wrapped around Katie's chest, like a vise, Katie looks at her and says, "I can't breathe."

Something passes over Effy's face, darkening her expression for a moment. Then she pulls away, giving Katie room to recover

After a few minutes, Effy pulls the blanket over herself, and turns over, facing away.

Katie sighs deeply, grateful.

\--

It’s when she’s readjusting her bra, after having found her top beneath Effy’s pillow (right fucking wrinkled; she’ll look a mess on her way home), that Katie allows herself to gaze at the figure lying on the bed.

Effy looks small, still too thin--her skin is starkly white in the moonlight—and Katie is glad she’s facing away, glad she isn’t looking back with that arrogant fucking smirk of hers.

“I’m going to go,” she mutters, and, Christ, she sounds just how she feels--like she’s spent a night getting fucked up and fucked over by Effy Stonem.

Effy doesn’t move. Doesn’t say anything, not for a very long time. (Meanwhile, Katie puts on her shoes, searches through her bag for a mirror; and, fuck, she looks like absolute shit.) When she finally speaks, Effy whispers, ever faintly, “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

Katie doesn’t _fancy_ Effy--she doesn’t even like her, most of the time--but she’s grown to hate her a little less; sometimes, more often than she’d care to admit, she remembers why she wanted to be friends with her in the first place, and it’s in those moments she wants never to see Effy again. _She hit me with a fucking rock,_ she thinks, and it’s ridiculous, that she has to remind herself.

“What’s wrong?” she asks flatly, because she doesn’t want to know. Didn’t want to ask. Isn’t sure why she has.

“It’s almost morning,” Effy responds, “you’d better leave.”

Katie tosses the mirror into her purse, stands. She’s halfway to the door when she turns (it’s always a mistake to stop, to look). Effy’s eyes are open; they’re fixed on Katie, but there’s no arrogance in her gaze--just weariness, maybe.

“You should fucking try to eat something, yeah?”

Effy blinks slowly. “Don’t you like the way I look?”

“You’ll be sick, you idiot,” Katie answers, taking a step back towards the door.

“And you care?” She’s nearly curled up into a ball, Effy, and it’s impossible to miss the soft vulnerability that settles in her eyes for--one, two, three entire seconds. Then, in a flash, she’s back, lazy in her defiance.

Katie stutters her reply. “N-no.”

When Effy's dead-eyed smile materialises, Katie feels sick. She thinks, _I can never come here again._

Effy makes it easy: "Well, then," she says, her voice muffled by her pillow as she turns over (and Katie can finally breathe again, now that Effy's looking elsewhere). "See you around."

\--

The next three nights, Katie keeps her mobile turned off. Every morning, she sees Effy's called, but it isn't until the fourth day that there's a message: "Hope you weren't hit by a bus."

\--

On the fifth day, Katie manages to roll out of bed before noon. Most of her clothes are still in a pile by her bed, because she hasn't had the nerve to throw them out. There's something comforting about being predictable, but college is starting in less than two weeks, and she needs to decide who she's going to be. She can't be the old Katie anymore; it isn't even an option.

She finds Emily in the garden, by herself for once, wrist-deep in dirt.

"I think I need to go shopping," Katie tells her.

Emily gives her a blank look for a second, then smiles stupidly. "Really?" she asks.

"Yeah, really," Katie replies, wondering if the look on her sister's face means she's been more out of it these last few weeks than even she could've imagined; Emily's looking at her like she's just got out of some, like, Turkish prison or something. "Where's your girlfriend fucked off to, then?"

Emily shrugs happily, gets up off her knees and slaps the dirt off her hands on her thighs. "We're not joined at the hip, you know."

"Could've fooled me," Katie says, but she smiles, just to be sure Emily understands there's no lingering resentment. "So, are you coming, or what?"

Emily nods and they walk back into the house.

"Are you actually getting rid of everything?" Emily asks. "You _love_ those clothes, Katie."

"Yeah, well, time for something different. I look good in anything, right?"

Emily laughs. "No more leopard print, _really?_ "

"Don't be daft. I'm, like, keeping my fucking underwear, obviously."

Emily laughs harder. "Obviously," she repeats.

\--

Naomi shows up at the shop just as they're walking out with two bagfuls of new clothes, and for once Katie isn't even irritated.

"Not joined at the hip, bollocks," she mutters, when Emily asks if she minds going home alone. She shrugs, though, and sends them off with an impatient wave of her hand, because the last thing she needs is to become, like, the lamest third wheel in the history of the universe.

She thinks about taking a taxi, but instead she walks to the park--ridiculously heavy bags in hand--and sits in the sun, not really remembering when she was last out during the day. "Turned me into a fucking vampire," she says to herself, wondering if Effy's in bed, sleeping after a night out. An unexpected twinge of... Well, not fucking jealousy, obviously. But it still feels strange, knowing Effy's been out, got trashed and probably-- Katie snorts. She doesn't fucking _care._

She sits and thinks of all the things she never wants to do again: get hit on the head with a rock; care about who Emily fucks; be humiliated in front of their entire class; ask Freddie McLair for anything; be alone with Effy Stonem.

Ten minutes pass and impatience is starting to set in when Katie spots JJ walking by, carrying a bag, his head down. He walks quickly, with purpose.

Katie briefly wonders how he gets by, how he manages to deal with the world when he's just... For once, Katie dismisses unkind thoughts. She remembers what Freddie told her once, about all the medication JJ was on, everything he had to take just to be not even all that normal.

And still, he looks happier than all of them.

He's so surprised by her approach that he drops his shop bag full of...toys. It shouldn't surprise her, that he's still such a little boy. "Hi, Jay." She smiles at him as sweetly as she can manage.

"Oh, h-hi, Katie," he stutters, smiling stupidly as he squats down and begins placing the items--model plane sets, she sees--back into the large plastic bag.

"I need to ask you something," she says, keeping her voice low. She isn't sure why she's doing this, she doesn't really think there's anything wrong with her; she's just had a spectacular run of bad luck. _But then there's Effy._ Katie can't explain this thing with Effy without wondering if there's something within her that needs serious fixing.

"Ask, ask _me?_ " JJ's quite possibly more startled by her tone than by her initial hello, and he fumbles with one of his boxes, watches it falls to the ground. She hears the parts rattle inside of it. "Ask me what?"

"You go somewhere, right?"

"Excuse me?"

"For your," she sighs, and looks away, squints into the sun, "you know. For your problems."

"Which ones?" he asks, laughing.

Katie scowls, because he's forced her to say it this way. "Your _mental_ problems, okay?"

"Ah, right. Yes, yes, my mental, um, problems." His smile fades quickly and comes back again, like a dying light bulb that's flickering on and off. "Right."

"Freddie told me, that you take stuff. Like, loads of pills. So you see a psychiatrist or something, yeah?"

"I do," he replies, nodding quickly

She hesitates for a moment, because as fucked up as her life has been lately, she wouldn't have ever considered it would lead her here, to this place--asking fucking JJ for help. "So where do you go then?"

He frowns and scratches the back of his neck. "Well, I... Couldn't you just ask Emily?"

She takes a step back, because of all the things he could have told her, that wasn't one she'd expected. "Emily? What d'you mean, Emily?"

"N-no, I don't mean-- Bollocks. Bloody buggery hell. Shtum, we're to stay shtum. Idiot, fucking idiot, confidentiality. _We don't say--_ "

" _JJ_!" She grabs hold of his collar and shakes him as he prattles on and on. Finally she slaps his cheek, not hard, and he blinks at her like she's just given him a sodding kiss or something.

"Sorry," he murmurs, wide-eyed and red-faced.

She shakes her head angrily, gesturing for him to get on with it. "What do you mean by ask Emily, JJ? And don't fucking lie to me."

"I, I don't think I should say, Katie."

"Look, she's my sister, so if she's having problems, yeah, I think I have the fucking right to know, okay?"

She watches JJ swallow hard three times before his tick, or whatever, settles him enough to respond. "I think, well, the problem was with you, wasn't it, Katie?"

Katie crosses her arms, and she's fucking angry, right, but she'll never get anything out of him by shouting. " _Explain yourself_ , JJ."

"She wanted help with, you know, with being honest. And she's, um, she's done it, I think." He smiles. "She's quite brave, Emily."

Katie rolls her eyes. "Yeah, sure," she replies. "How fucking long ago was this, then?"

"Um, months. Months ago."

She starts to nod, and then remembers. Remembers that day JJ and Emily inexplicably showed up together at Freddie's, while Katie and Freddie were... "Oh," she says. "You were, like, nice to her, weren't you?"

"Excuse me?"

She shrugs and turns away from him, just for a moment. "It's why she--" She stops; she can't say it, but, right. It's why Emily fucked JJ. He was nice to her when everyone else had fucked off and ignored her.

Right.

\--

Later, she rings Effy, who just answers like it's any other night, like they haven't been apart for five days. Like it's all the same as ever.

"Let's get totally fried," Katie says and Effy just replies with a placid, "Cool."

Katie has to make her way through a crowd before she sees Effy, already inside the club, just waiting off to the side, scanning the entrance.

Katie nearly smiles.

It's when Effy's gaze finds her own that the smile slips away completely because her breath catches in her throat just at the sight of Effy's face, at the sight of her eyes. Katie feels queasy, almost sick, and by the time she reaches Effy, she has to turn away and just _breathe._

"What's up?" Effy asks. "You all right?"

"Yeah," Katie snaps. "Why the fuck shouldn't I be?"

Effy shrugs, touches her hand.

It feels better when they kiss, because Katie isn't gentle and Effy isn't either. It feels right.

\--

When she sees Emily the next day, Katie can't help herself.

“Why didn’t you fucking tell me?” she asks, not sure why she’s suddenly so angry. They’ve sorted things out, and this all happened a long time ago. Why is she _so fucking angry_ then?

Emily gives her a pointed look. “I wasn’t telling you a lot, was I? Sort of the way you aren’t tell me things now. Don’t pretend it isn’t true, Katie. I know you. I _know you_ , okay? You're hiding something.”

"I _told_ Naomi--"

"I know what you told Naomi, okay? It's just, you've never been like this, Katie."

"Like what? A secretive bitch? Hurts, doesn't it?"

"Jesus, Katie. Talk to me, will you?"

Katie sits on the bed, looks up at Emily who just hovers over her like she's her mum or something. "I don't know what to tell you, Ems," she says wearily. She rubs her hands over her face and lies down, turns her gaze to the window. "What the fuck do you want me to tell you?"

Emily sighs. "Where do you go?"

"Clubs."

"We've never seen you--"

"Where you won't be. Where none of our friends are likely to show up, yeah?"

"Why?"

"Because they're not actually my friends at all, are they? I don't have any fucking friends, Emily."

"But they are," Emily begins to say. "Panda and Thomas, JJ--"

"They're your sodding friends, not mine," Katie replies angrily, turning around to face her sister.

A look of anguish and frustration passes across Emily's face before she composes herself and says, "So, then, you're just hooking up with strangers? That's dangerous, Katie."

"Christ's sake, Ems, don't you ever fucking listen to yourself? I'm not some slag, okay. I go dancing, and I get fucked up, but I can handle myself, yeah?"

"Well, you're having sex with _someone_."

 _Jesus_ ," Katie exclaims, standing. She puts her arms up because she can't even fucking believe this. "What the fuck, Emily. _What the fuck?_ If I can't fucking tell you who you can sleep with, then you very well can't tell me, okay?"

Emily smirks. She fucking _smirks._ "So you are, then."

It takes all the effort in the world not to slap her sister's face right then. Katie isn't even sure how she fucking manages. "I--" She starts to deny it, but then... Whatever. "Yeah. I'm fucking someone. Satisfied?"

"Do I know him?"

Katie looks up at the ceiling and grits her teeth. "No."

"Is he nice to you?"

"Christ. Katie doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Yeah, sure," she says, nearly choking on the words. "He's nice to me, Ems."

Out of nowhere, Emily pulls her into a tight hug, and now Katie does brave back tears. Because it wouldn't make any fucking sense, would it? Crying whilst Emily's hugging her and happy she's shagging some nice bloke.

"It's not a big deal, okay?" she says, pulling away because she's about two seconds away from bursting. She swallows down a thick knot in her throat and shakes her head. "Just... We're just fucking."

Emily smiles, indulgent, and says, "Okay."

But it's not.

It's really just not.


End file.
